


Paying the Dues

by dracoqueen22



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21533458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Dying had not been fun, but waking up after is a fascinating experience.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Paying the Dues

“You’ve returned much sooner than we anticipated.”  
  
The low voice, with its odd cadence and even odder lack of accent, is the first thing to pierce the veil. Molly’s eyes flutter open, and isn’t surprised to find himself surrounded by darkness, the taste of blood on his lips, and pain lingering in his chest.  
  
Someone leans over him. He’s pretty, pretty enough Molly feels a grin on his lips that’s completely instinctual. Bright brown eyes peer down at him, framed by long strands of dark brown hair.  
  
“Oh, hello,” Molly says. “Have we met before? I’m sorry, you’ve caught me at something of a loss. I do think I’m dead.”  
  
The man cocks his head, in an oddly bird-like fashion. “You are. For the second time at that.”  
  
He stands, and Mollymauk finds himself suddenly standing as well. He brushes at his clothes, familiar and stained with blood, but where there should be a hole in his abdomen, there isn’t one. The blood is there -- tacky and wet -- but no hole.  
  
Molly looks around, and finds they’re surrounded by dark and black and occasionally, wisps of grey. It’s very quiet here. So quiet his breathing echoes around him.  
  
Which is even weirder because his companion is not breathing.  
  
“I guess I don’t get a third try at life,” Molly says with a disappointed sigh. “Not that I know what really gave me the second try, but a part of me was hoping I was little unkillable.”  
  
“No one is fully immortal. Not even the gods.”  
  
Molly snorts. “I don’t know if I should find that comforting or disappointing.” He eyes his companion who’s staring back at him without blinking, and it’s a little bit creepy. “I take it you know who I am then. Who are you?”  
  
“Once, they called me Vax’ildan. Now I am called Hers.” The feathers around his collar -- as black as the darkness which surrounds them -- flutter in a wind Molly can’t see.  
  
There’s something in the way this Vax’ildan says ‘Hers’ that makes Mollymauk think he means some kind of deity. Capital-letter and everything.  
  
“Whose?” Mollymauk asks, though he thinks maybe he’s got a good idea. He’s only been awake for a little over a year, but he’s learned as much as he could, and there’s something. Something tugging at the memories he can’t really access.  
  
Vax’ildan glances over his shoulder, and a shape looms in the darkness, much larger than both of them, draped in all black, but a very, very white mask putting off a slight glow. Yep. That’s definitely the Raven Queen, or at least, the way Molly’s heard her described.  
  
“Ah,” Molly says. “Nice to, err, meet you. Both of you. Again?” He’s off-balance, here in this realm, and it leaves him fumbling. “So what happens next?”  
  
Vax’ildan tilts his head, and far behind him, the Raven Queen does as well, as if they are connected on a level Molly can’t see. “You don’t remember?”  
  
“Nope. Not a damn thing.” Molly tilts his head, too, because it seems the thing to do, and the chime of his jewelry seems abnormally loud in the odd silence. “Is this the part where you tell me I made some kind of deal or something?”  
  
“Of a sort,” Vax’ildan says.  
  
Behind him, the Raven Queen dissolves to nothing, and Molly wishes he could feel relieved, save that a chill climbs up his spine, and he knows without looking, she’s not gone at all. She’s standing right behind him, looming over him. Vax’ildan looks up, past Molly, and nods briefly, before he returns his gaze to Molly.  
  
“You asked for a favor,” Vax’ildan says. “We’ve come to collect.”  
  
Dread pools in Mollymauk’s belly. “Is that right?” he says with a little nervous laugh. He can’t step forward or back, so he stays in place. “Does it count if I can’t remember what it was?”  
  
“It counts.”  
  
Molly goes still.  
  
That voice had not come from Vax’ildan. It had, in fact, come from behind him, around him, above him. Both sonorous and gentle, there’s a finality to the tone which leaves no room for argument.  
  
Molly gulps. “Sure,” he says, and his voice shakes a little. “I understand. Rules are rules, after all.” He aims for a smile, lands somewhere near it. “So, uh, what was this deal?”  
  
“You wanted a second chance,” Vax’ildan says, his tone changing until it matches the Raven Queen’s.  
  
“A chance free of the burdens you carried into death,” his goddess says, and the echoes of her voice make Molly shiver. It feels like it vibrates through whatever surface they’re standing on, up through his boots, his knees, his hips, up around his heart.  
  
Molly scratches his chin. “Well, not remembering a thing about how I used to be, I can’t say if it sounds like me or not. But probably so. What did I promise in return?”  
  
At this, Vax’ildan reacts like a person for the first time. His cheeks take on a bit of color. He glances off to the side.  
  
A feather-light touch graces Molly’s shoulders, and he glances to the side, seeing long, pale fingers curled against him, expertly manicured fingernails a gleam in the dark.  
  
“Companionship,” the Raven Queen whispers in his ear, like a warm seduction, only without the sexual promise.  
  
_Oh_.  
  
Molly flushes, despite himself. His old self probably thought he was being smart, that he’d find a way out of this deal one way or another. Who knows what his old self was escaping, to think of such a deal.  
  
“My champion finds he misses what it means to be mortal,” the Raven Queen continues, and is Molly losing his mind, or does he find a hint of amusement in her voice?  
  
Certainly, Vax’ildan is reacting much differently than before. The pink in his cheek darkens. He shifts his weight and finds the nothingness that is the ground fascinating.  
  
“For as long as your mortality keeps you, I would have you in my realm,” the Raven Queen says. “That was our deal.”  
  
For as long…?  
  
Molly works his throat. “So how long is that?”  
  
He swears the Raven Queen’s hands become heavier on his shoulders. “It varies. It depends on your will to cling to the life you had. How long you can linger in this in-between realm.”  
  
“I have a strong will, if I do say so myself,” Molly says, and he can’t fight his grin this time, because he’s reasonably sure that’s a blush on Vax’ildan’s cheeks, which makes him seem a lot less like a blank slate, and more like a person. A very pretty person. “I’ll be happy to meet my end of the bargain.”  
  
The Raven Queen chuckles like the rustle of laundry drying in an afternoon breeze. “You had little choice, Mollymauk Tealeaf, but your concession makes it easier.”  
  
The hands vanish from his shoulders. The sense of a looming presence vanishes, and Molly doesn’t have to look to know the Raven Queen is stepping back, away from him.  
  
“You’re not going to call me by my old name?” Molly asks.  
  
Vax’ildan coughs into his hand and rolls his shoulders, trying to put his reserve back on him like a mantle, but it doesn’t work. Molly’s seen him ruffled.  
  
“If you prefer,” he says.  
  
“Nah. I like the name I picked out.” Molly pointedly looks around, even behind himself, but as he suspected, the Raven Queen is no longer there. She’s not anywhere.  
  
She’s gone, leaving him with Vax’ildan, who Molly supposes he’s meant to entertain, until he forgets who he is again and moves on into the afterlife, whatever that means.  
  
“So… Vax’ildan. What next?”  
  
“You can call me Vax, if you like,” he says, and his shoulders twitch like he’s settling something that isn’t quite there. “I suppose I should show you around.”  
  
Molly blinks. “Around what?” he asks, but no sooner do the words leave his lips, then the area starts to lighten around them, from the inky black, to shades of gray, to washed out color, and then muted shades.  
  
They’re in a building made of stone, what Molly assumes a castle might look like. Gray stone and wooden beams and fantastic tapestries. They’re in a room with a long table surrounded by chairs, and on the wall is a painting which defies words. Two gnomes? On a horse? On a beach?  
  
Why? Molly wants to ask, but he’s afraid.  
  
“Home,” Vax’ildan says.  
  
Home. Interesting.  
  
Molly grins and tosses Vax a playful wink, just to watch the pink grow at the tip of his ears. “Lead the way.”  
  
Dying hadn’t been fun.  
  
But at least death is proving to be interesting.  
  
He’s sure the Mighty Nein will survive without him. They’re strong and smart, and they have each other.  
  
They’ll be just fine.  
  


***

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is highly welcome and appreciated! I'd love to know what you think about Vax's characterization in particular because I drew a lot of it from his brief appearance in the Dalen's Closet oneshot and how he's changed a little post-Vecna. 
> 
> There's a high probability I will eventually continue this. Marking it as a one-shot for now, but don't be surprised if I come back to it. :)


End file.
